


Sounds You Crave

by au_paradise



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, having a little domestic, just another day in 221 B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/au_paradise/pseuds/au_paradise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sounds are a wonder to the world, that can bring great joy or to pain to those that hear them. </p>
<p>For Sherlock Holmes though, his favorite sound was his flat-mate, Dr. John Hamish Watson, making his trademark cup of tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounds You Crave

Requested by anotherwellkeptsecret

ASMRlock

Sounds are a wonder to the world, that can bring great joy or to pain to those that hear them.

For Sherlock Holmes though, his favorite sound was his flat-mate, Dr. John Hamish Watson, making his trademark cup of tea.

It amused Sherlock immensely that John’s habitual tea making was comforting to the both of them: John found comfort in the muscle memory of it, and Sherlock in the sound of the cups clinking, the kettle boiling, and John humming the same tune every time.

No matter what mood Sherlock seemed to be in, the second John started to make his tea he would stop pacing, sulking, or whatever he was doing and start to relax, the sounds immediately comforting him.

At first, it annoyed him to no end because he did not understand why John’s tea making had such an effect on him, after all he had heard and seen people make tea dozens of times before. However, he had never felt the sense of comfort, the sense of peace he felt when John made his tea.

Perhaps it was simply because John was the first person he truly allowed close to him, the first he truly loved; because John had always felt like HOME.

Whatever the reason, it soon became evident to Sherlock that John had caught onto this odd behavior, and saw fit to use it against him.

If he and Sherlock got into an argument or if John felt that Sherlock was being an ‘utter git’, he would simply get up, walk into the kitchen, and start making his tea. The affect it had on Sherlock was almost immediate. He would shut up and either curled up into his chair, or threw himself onto the sofa with his back to John. Smiling at the easy victory, John simply placed a cup of tea on the floor near him, knowing it would most likely go cold, which made the Englishman in him weep.

However, what Sherlock didn’t know at first was that John loved it when he did his experiments. He always yelled at Sherlock for leaving them everywhere (he honestly did not feel like being poisoned), but he loved listening to the insane man perform them. The clinking of Sherlock’s florence flasks, Sherlock calibrating his microscope, even the sound of his pencil flying across the paper when he took notes. John loved listening to Sherlock during his experiments more than making his tea; it was almost like a lullaby to him. He didn’t want Sherlock to know this fact, however, and keeping a secret from a man that observant was damn near impossible.

Unfortunately, and honestly rather unexpectedly, he did figure it out.

John and Sherlock had gotten into an argument about why lungs affected by thirty years of smoking should not be on the table without anything underneath it. John went to go make his tea to shut Sherlock up, but found none, probably Sherlock’s doing. Frustrated and exhausted, he decided to punish Sherlock by promptly heading up the stairs and locking the door to his old room behind him, to prevent the giant from barging in to continue the argument.

The next morning John woke up still feeling a little pissed at Sherlock for throwing away his tea, but the combination of an empty stomach and a full bladder meant he couldn’t just stay in bed and sulk. Moving quickly down the stairs, he didn’t even give Sherlock a glance as he passed the kitchen and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him again.

After that was taken care of he decided it was time to head into the kitchen to make some toast with no tea to wake him up, which made his mood a bit more sour. He was so wrapped up in his bad mood, he almost failed to notice what Sherlock was doing at the table in front of him.

Sherlock was performing another one of his experiments, although this one seemed to be relatively hazard free; the table even looked like it had been scrubbed within an inch of its life. John felt himself start to relax as he watched and listened to Sherlock’s even breathing, his concentrated stare into whatever was in the microscope, and the shuffle of paper as he ruffled through old notes. They stayed like that for a while: John watching Sherlock and Sherlock pretending to be oblivious to his audience until he thought enough time had passed.

When Sherlock deemed John calm enough, he slowly straightened his spine, one vertebrate at a time, and turned in his chair to look at John.

They stared at each other for a time, one waiting for the other to say something, until John’s legendary patience for the ridiculous man in front of him snapped a bit.

“If you ever throw my tea out again I will throw out every single one of your experiments, even if they are for a case.”

Sherlock smirked at the threat, knowing full well that John meant every word, but being the deductive genius he was, he also heard the reluctance in John’s voice.

“Please. We both know you love it when I work on my experiments, and not just because you love witnessing my brilliance. You have developed a sense of autonomous sensory meridian response to the sound of me performing my experiments. When you threatened to throw out my experiments there was hesitation in your voice. The sound of my experiments is comforting, if not pleasurable, for you to listen to, no matter how much you complain about them.”

“Oh wipe that smug look of your face you prat. The main reason I complain about your bloody experiments is because I don’t want either of us getting poisoned and dying from one of the many things you put on that table! And you want to talk about ASMR? What about with you when I make my tea? The only reason you threw out my tea was so that you could win whatever argument we were going to have! So, you owe me new tea, and like I said: you throw it away again and bye-bye to your experiments!”

John was panting by the end of his little rant, but as he went over it in his head, he couldn’t help but chuckling at it, with Sherlock soon joining him. Soon they were laughing so hard that they both collapsed to the floor, holding their stomachs as they did.

As their giggling faded, Sherlock put his arm around John and pulled him close, having John rest his head on his shoulder. They sat there in the comfort of each other’s presences, each in their own thoughts.

“You’re not off the hook. You still owe me tea.”

“Pfft. Honestly John, don’t you think you rely on your tea too much?”

“No, you idiot. I’m a proper Englishman, and a proper Englishman drinks his tea everyday. You’re not getting out of this!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but conceded. They stayed like that for a minute or two, until Sherlock’s stomach decided to unleash an ungodly rumble, causing him to turn pink at the ears.

“When did you eat last?”

“Lets see…today is Wednesday the 5th…. so I last ate the night after the killer orangutan case.”

John sighed and reached into the pocket of his dressing gown to pull out his mobile.

“That was three days ago Sherlock. I’m calling Speedy’s and having them bring something up because all we have is toast, and I don’t want to hear anything about you not being hungry.”

Sherlock simply shrugged and leapt up to continue with his experiment.

As John finished ordering, he looked over to Sherlock, suddenly struck with curiosity as to what the subject of the experiment was. “By the way Sherlock…what experiment are you performing?"

“I’m testing the affect of strychnine on common house flies. If their reactions and deaths match those found at the crime scene, we have our killer!”

“Wait a minute…Sherlock, strychnine is extremely poisonous…you did remember to keep it completely contained, right?”

“Define completely contained.”

“SHERLOCK!”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic I've written, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes there may be. I hope you enjoyed it!


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